Being a history nerd, i could not resist the nearby Deeg, so we modified our route a bit. We followed the National Highway 2 to Mathura from where we turned right towards Govardhan and eventually to Deeg. After driving on the flawless but boring tarmac of the NH, the tiny, bumpy roads seemed like heaven-sent.

Route

But if you are driving on this road, don’t get too excited by the spreading mustard fields and the quaint hamlets around you. There are many unmarked speed breakers on this stretch and if you are not paying attention,   they might break your vehicles and you even. Although we went to Deeg first, I am going to move ahead and talk about Bharatpur. Deeg I will post later.

Somewhere on the road to Mathura

Dope gets a break

The area around Mathura is generally referred to as Braj bhoomi, or the ‘land of Krishna’. Mythologically speaking, this is where Krishna grew up and did all those things we remember him for (steal butter, steal clothes of bathing beauties, herd cows and lift a chariot wheel, among others). So, every now and then, the tiny road weaves through a tiny town, dominated by an oversized and multi-coloured temple.

We had left home quite early in the morning and as a result, reached Deeg before 10 am. We idled around the palace complex for a couple of hours before heading towards Bharatpur. Just as the dusty little town came into sight – DISASTER! The clutch cable broke off while I was doing about 100 kph. I somehow managed to bring down the speed to around 40 kph. I knew that if the bike stopped, we would have to push it for around 5 kms, so I downshifted somehow and continued towards the town. Asked a couple of passing motorcyclists about the location of a good bullet mechanic and as it turns out, one of them were on our way! I also had a spare cable with me, which was fortunate because finding a spare would be like searching for a needle in a dusty, crowded town!

Morning mist

We had initially planned to foray into the park for a little while in the afternoon and spend more time again the next morning. However, the clutch wire episode ensured that by the time we got into the hotel, it was already dark. For those who have not been to Bharatpur, the Park lies south of the National Highway 11 that connects Agra with Jaipur. As we had been to Deeg, we approached the town from the north, negotiated the endless crowded lanes and reached the southern part of the town where all the hotels are located within 500 m of the park’s entrance.

There are three ways of exploring the park – on a rickshaw, on a bicycle and on foot. We tried to hire a bike, but none of them were free. So we turned to the rickshaw, which in retrospect was a good idea. The rickshaw pullers are authorised guides and are pretty fluent in English. Our guide – Hardev Singh –  even surprised us by quoting Salim Ali and throwing at us almost unpronounceable  scientific names of birds.

Beams of light.

Keoladeo Ghana National Park is largely man-made. It was developed in 1899 by Prince Harbhanji of Morvi in Gujarat as a duck hunting reserve.  He constructed bunds and dykes all around the saucer-shaped depression in the outskirts of Bharatpur and increased its water holding capacity. It remained a notified forest for years before being granted the status of a National Park in  1981. In 1985 it was designated by the UNESCO as a World Heritage Site.  It sprawls over an area of 29 sq kms.

Prime habitat

The park is a mosaic of grasslands, woodlands, woodland swamps and wetland. This diverse habitat is home to 375 species of avifauna. In addition to this, it also has 372 species of plants, 34 species of mammals and 14 species of snakes.  Right as you enter the gate, on both sides of the road are open grasslands and patches of bush. Around a kilometer from the gate, on both sides of the road, the swamps begin. The water is covered with red and green algae which is the main food for many of the birds as well as the park’s large deer population. Apart from being the foundation of the food chain, the multicoloured algae is spectacular to look at. Certain closed swamps, where the algae is cultured and eventually distributed across the park, look almost dreamlike.

The road ends near a temple and right in front of you in the large, main swamp of Bharatpur. Little mud islands, covered with birds, both endemic and migratory dot the swamp.

Bharatpur Habitat

Bharatpur Habitat

Bharatpur Habitat

Window!

Bharatpur Habitat

Bharatpur Habitat

Closeup of the algae

If you are a budding bird-lover like me, the best time to visit the park is from November to February when you can see a large number of migratory birds. The park, however is open throughout the year and continues to attract serious ornithologists who come here to study the endemic species.

Painted storks (Mycteria leucocephala) are the most visible birds in the sanctuary. This is not only because of their large numbers and large size, but also due to the fact that they make a tremendous racket. As the name suggests, the adult birds are quite colorful. The youngsters, on the other hand are a dull shade of grey and start putting on colour when they are about four months old.

Adult Painted Stork

Painted Stork in flight!

Painted Stork in flight!

Painted Stork in flight!

A colony of juvenile Painted Storks

Another bird we saw a lot of was the Indian Roller (Coracias benghalensis). I grew up in rural Bengal where this bird, locally called neelkanth (blue-throat, a reference to its obvious colouration), is a common sight. Its only after i saw  it here, after so many years that i realised how beautiful it actually is. One i sighted on a low branch slightly off the main track. I successfully managed to tread the distance without disturbing the bird and captured a few shots.

Indian roller

Indian Roller - another angle

Indian Roller in flight

Drying the morning dew from its wings!

Being a marsh, there is an obvious abundance of kingfishers – particularly the Halcyon smyrnensis or the white breasted kingfisher. These birds appeared to be surprisingly bold and remained still even when i was barely an arm’s length away.  These brilliantly coloured birds are quick and one of the world’s most efficient hunters.

White breasted kingfisher

A juvenile

Hunter in the reeds

Of the many species of egrets, we saw three – Great egret, intermediate egret and the little egret.  The difference in these three are, as the names suggest, mainly in terms of size. But frankly i might have seen more but failed to identify as many of the egret sub-species vary very little in appearance and can be said apart only by the most expert ornithologist.

Little egret

Intermediate egret, landing on a mud island

Great egret

Great egret

Related to the egrets and herons is the ibis. Of the many varieties found worldwide, Bharatpur is home to two – Glossy ibis (Plegadis falcinellus) and the black-headed ibis (Threskiornis melanocephalus). Of the two we just saw the latter, and that too in large number. However although they were obviously many, all of them were concentrated on the farthest corner of the main marsh. Ibises have a beak that is curved forwards which helps it sift through the mud for small crustaceans.

A black-headed ibis with a coot in the background

Another stalks the reeds

Caught in the act

Ibis family

Also in the central marsh we saw two other beautiful water-birds. The first was the wooly-necked stork (Ciconia episcopus). They are found across the globe fro m the grasslands of Africa to India and as far east as Indonesia. In spite of the vast geographic field and their ‘least Concern’ status in the IUCN list, we saw just one bird.

The other was the bar-headed geese  (Anser indicus) which migrate here every winters from the distant Siberia. There were a huge flock of these at the marshes but for some reason they never really took flight. As a result the desire to capture the image of a huge flock of birds in flight has to date remained  a fantasy. Interestingly, they are thought to be the highest flying birds in the world. Tagged individuals have been noted to have flown over Mt Makalu (8,841 m), the fifth highest mountain in the world.

Wooly-necked stork resting on a branch

Wooly-necked stork in flight!

Bar-headed geese roosting about

Bar-headed geese in flight

Apart from the main, circular swamp, the little marshes on the die of the main road also hold a huge population of birds, mainly painted storks, spoonbills  (Platalea leucorodia), grey herons (Ardea cinerea), cormorants (little and great), darters (Anhinga melanogaster ), etc. The waters are rich in algae and crustaceans and can support a large number of birds and the occasional nilgai and sambar.

The rich marshes

Roosting painted storks

More roosting painted storks

A grey heron stands guard

A lonely spoonbill

A darter dries its wings, waiting for the next dive

Now do you see why darters are also called snake-birds?

The beautiful colours!

Turtles!

Apart from the obvious water-birds, two other sightings record special mention. The first is the spotted owlet (Athene brama), and like the Indian Roller, i had seen a lot of these growing up in the village. It was nice to see them again.

Two of a kind!

Obscured by branches

And a clearer view!

Then there was the nightjar, which definitely was one of the highlights of the trip. Credit here goes totally to our guide who spotted it out of nowhere. These nocturnal birds rest during the daytime and often on the ground. It was so well camouflaged against the foliage that it actually took us some time to see the actual bird even though it was only a few feet from us. The particular species is not clear. Maybe the pros out there can help. Looks like it is a large-tailed nightjar (Caprimulgus macrurus)

Eyes as black as the night!

Clearer view

Other birds:

Please help me identify this one..

a common parakeet flies past a Rufous-tailed Shrike (Lanius isabellinus)

A yellow-legged green pigeon (Treron phoenicoptera)

I know the park is famous for its feathered residents, it also has a significant number of mammals as well and we did get to see some. One of the first animals we saw upon entering the park was a jackal  (Canis aureus). We kept getting glimpses of this slippery customer throughout the park.

Calling out to its mates

Feasting on a leopard kill!

Nilgais  (Boselaphus tragocamelus) are a common sight in Delhi and its outskirts and so it was not a big surprise to see it Bharatpur. But still, hand on heart, i’d rather see a pack of nilgais in the wild than a tiger in a cage.

Face-to-face with a female Nilgai

Another female basks in the morning sun

And the male waits a little distance away

Did come across some dead ones as well

We saw surprisingly little of the cheetals (Axis axis). Early in our trip, we noticed a Crested Serpent Eagle in the distance and decided to go towards it, and on the way, we were surprised by a herd of them (they also surprised the bird, who immediately took to the skies).

The herd!

Closer

In the middle of a forest, just before the main swamp is a shiva temple which gave Keoladeo Ghana National Park its name. Here, in a fenced off enclosure is a tiny canteen where one can buy chips, snacks and water. here we came across some super friendly squirrels who would eat the chips right off our hands.

The pretty little clearing... a nice place to rest a little

Would he bite the hand that feeds?

Imroz tries to lure one. Our guide couldn't be bothered!

He was a good guide, though!

My most interesting encounter, however, was with a pack of wild boar. I was walking off the trail in knee-high grass when i was alerted by the sounds of grunting. I immediately turned to face a pack of wild boars which comprised on a few juveniles and the mother. All the wild boars we had seen so far were small and this was no exception, so i decided to take it lightly. When i moved ever so little, just to raise my camera to take a photograph, the mother charged. Fortunately for me, it was just a half charge, meant to scare me off and trust me, it had the desired effect. No matter what the size of the wild animal, never, even un-intentionally threaten the kids!

Warning! Wild boar crossing!

The standoff!

Another sight, and this time pretty, was a pack of Sambar (Rusa unicolor) grazing ion the marshes, feeding on the algae. We were just a few paces away and the animals were thankfully unmindful of us. The colours of the water and the grace of the animals made for a fantastic sight.

The sambar of Bharatpur

A female sambar

The leader of the pack keeps a close eye on possible threats!

It had been a good trip, and with the exception of the pythons (which, being February, must have been hibernating) and the sarys crane, we had seen almost all the birds and beasts we had come to see, and then some. What i enjoyed the most was that one could simply walk on the paths and spot wildlife. Sometimes its good not to have a tiger around! I am writing this almost a year after i went there, and already in my mind, i am planning a return. Can anyone lend me a telephoto (Nikon mount) for a weekend?

Leaving you with these two images:

Bharatpur tracks

Waiting to walk these roads!

I have made countless trips, visited many places known, unknown and little known, but even after all the travelling i have never been able to sleep the night before. The excitement of the impending trip is enough to keep me up all night and this time was no different. I hit the bed looking for some shut eye and it was a long time later that obdurate sleep did come. When i woke up, the watch told me that it was 4:22 AM. Shit! As per my original plan, i am already an hour late.

The problem was Moradabad. The previous day, there were some communal clashes and a curfew had been imposed on the city and some surrounding villages. I have never travelled in this route before and i did not know how close the highway went to the affected areas. So the idea was to cross it before sunrise. And now i have through pass through violent rioters in full daylight. Awesome!

Anyway, coming back to my leaving home with a tankful of gas and a handful of money… I had been in touch with a certain Sundar Singh, whose number (09410590980) i found on a very helpful site on travel in India. The post said that he arranges for homestays in the villages in Binsar and also acts as a guide in longer treks. A  quick check on the Kumaon Mandal Vikas Nigam (KMVN) revealed that Sundar was giving me a room in his village for half the price of the cheapest room in the KMVN Rest House and the price included all meals. I was sold!  Also, the village was supposed to be in the middle of the Binsar Wildlife Sanctuary!

The first roadblock on the way was the bridge over the Ganga at Garhmukteshwar. The ancient two lane bridge was fed on both sides by four lane highways and it created one hell of a bottleneck. In spite of the fact that i reached Garhmukteshwar by 6 AM, it took me over 45 minutes to negotiate the nightmare. There are two ways to get to Binsar, and while going, i took the Moradabad – Bazpur – Kaladhungi – Nainatal – Almora route.

Route

Barring the bottleneck at Garhmukteshwar, the road from Delhi to Modarabad is pretty good. Just before entering Moradabad, it is recommended that you get on to the Moradabad By Pass road. You will pass a couple of toll plazas and at the end of the bypass, you take a left (feels more like a U-turn) and ride on heavily potholed roads till Kaladhungi. After that, it was a different business. The Corbett National Park was making its presence felt and through it ran a black ribbon of a road.

Immediately after Kaladhungi

Patchwork on the road. Signs of Corbett all around!

Right after Bazpur, i could see the mountains and with every passing kilomete, they grew closer and closer till suddenly i was halfway up one. In front of me lay the expanse of the plains and the green carpet of Corbett, which i had just skirted. It was bang in the middle of monsoons so the greenery was unbelievable.

Finally, the hills!

Here i come, you sexy twisty road

The roads were practically empty and the tarmac was perfect. I was a bit apprehensive about riding hard as my rear rubbers were almost without any tread. But the thing with roads like these is that once you start the cornering, you forget everything else… the lean rules your world. Thankfully all went well. Very soon i was within 40 kms of Nainital and i decided to take a break after riding non-stop for around 240 kms.

Road to Heaven

Glee!

As i said earlier, the route i took was less frequented by the touristy lot, who preferred to come to Nainital via Bheemtal and Bhowali. The ride was fantastic and since this was my first time in Kumaon, the greenery was refreshing. The mountains were spectacular and the gain in altitude was perceptible. Khurpatal appeared suddenly to my right reminding me that i was in the Lake District.

Mist-topped

Khurpatal!

I don't need to go to no Switzerland

Very soon, the otherwise empty roads showed signs of automotive presence. Nainital was close and it welcomed me with a massive traffic jam. Once the jam cleared, i took the Mall Road by the side of the Naini Lake and i must admit, for a touristy place, it was very nice. Like Darjeeling, where i practically grew up, Nainital had a charm of its own. I wouldn’t mind coming here for a relaxed weekend if the company was right.

Nainital

When you drive through the Mall Road, the Lake is to your right. From the intersection where the lake ends, you have to take a left for Almora and eventually, Binsar. Road conditions, barring landslides is generally good and even if you are driving lazily, you should reach Binsar within three hours.

From Nainital, Kosi shows you the way to Almora

Clad in green

Amazing drive!

Around 30 kms from Nainital, at Garampani the road splits into two. The one heading heft across the bridge on the Kosi, leads to Ranikhet while the one going straight leads to Almora and eventually, Binsar. You can also reach Binsar via Ranikhet and Jageshwar. This route, although much longer is more often than not, in a slightly better shape (this i heard, no first-hand experience though)

My first knowledge of Almora was imparted through the Jim Corbett stories. As a kid i was fascinated by the man and how he trudged through the mountains and waited all nights on the branches of trees for the elusive man-eating tigers. There was a sense of foreboding. With the years of images superimposed on my mind, i almost did not expect Almora to have any resemblance to a modern town. I was thinking more in terms of pack-mules, muzzle-loaders, khakis, sola topees and mem sahibs. Sigh!

Almora's sole soccer ground!

The town and its strange light

Another view of Almora Town

Once you reach Almora, Binsar isn’t far away – a mere 30 kms. Since Almora is the last big town on this road, the traffic too gets even thinner and you start enjoying the drive even more.  Roughly halfway between Almora and Binsar is Deenapani which has a KMVN Guest House and many smaller private cottages. If you do not find accommodation in Binsar, Deenapani is your best bet.

Somewhere close to Binsar

Man's best friend. Dope takes a well-deserved breather

Interestingly, not many people know that Binsar is not a place / village / town per se. It is the name of the wildlife sanctuary that was once contiguous to the Corbett forest belt. The sanctuary in turn owes its name to the 9th-10th century Shiva temple that can still be seen today. The manifestation of Shiva worshipped in the temple was called Bineshwar, a name which the Brits later corrupted to Binsar. Today the temple is called Binsar Mahadev.

The entry to Binsar Wildlife Sanctuary is on the Almora-Jageshwar road (State Highway 37). You need to register your vehicle at the gate and pay the dues. You can only enter or leave between 6am and 5 pm and once you enter, preserve your ticket and the receipt as it is valid for three days and during this time you can enter and exit multiple times.

Entry to Binsar Wildlife Sanctuary

From here, a narrow road branches off and snakes its way up the mountains all the way to the Travellers’ Rest House (11 km). The Binsar Mahadev Temple sits at the end of a small meadow 7 kms from the entry gate, by the side of the road. Sundar Singh had been guiding me on the phone all the way and i was supposed to meet up with him at the TRH and then proceed to his village, 4-5 kms in the forest. Since this road is access controlled, the staff of the TRH as well as the forest officials have a hard time getting any transport. So when one of the forest guards asked if he could hitch a ride with me, i obliged. If someone approaches you for a lift, please do.

Clear skies... no pollution...

Binsar roads

Somewhere close to the TRH

At the TRH, i was welcomed by Sundar Singh, who turned out to be a strapping young fellow and not a middle aged man like i thought he would be. He is an expert trekker and guides amateur trekkers to Roopkund, Milam, Sundardhunga, etc. It was also revealed that i would actually be staying at his house in his village.  Before the trek to his village, i wanted to relax for a bit and so i went to the terrace of the rest house, famed for its view of the snow capped Himalayan peaks. Unfortunately, as it was the middle of the monsoons, the clouds had covered almost all of the peaks. So much for the view!

What i did see, however was a cluster of a few houses, deep in the valley below surrounded by a sea of green. Sundar Singh pointed to one of the houses as his! I was looking at my destination and i was thrilled.

Peak peeks!

Peak peeks - II

Looking towards Nepal

My destination. One of the houses you see here is where i spend the next two days

I used this break to down one entire pot of sweet milk tea. I needed all the energy for the trek even though all of it was downhill. Immediately after leaving the TRH the trail plunged into some of the deepest forest. It was drizzling and everything was wet and glistening. At certain places the forest was so thick that it was almost dark.

As the trek started...

Forest walk

Dead and red

Sundar Singh leads the way

Forest walk

Dark and wet and beautiful!

And the occasional clearing in the forest

The road leads on...

Nature's carpet

The downhill trek did not take much time and within 40 minutes, the village was in sight. It was called Gaunap and was more like a cluster of 10-12 houses on a slope arranged neatly around terraced fields. In all, the village was home to not more than 50 people. This is as remote and quaint as could be. I was already loving it. Sundar Singh turned out to be as much of a talker as i am and very soon i learned that the nearest town is Dhaulchina, 10 kms away. The kids go to school there, walking for 20 kms everyday.  On their way back sometimes they carry groceries and other supplies often weighing as much as 10-15 kilos.

Gaunap in sight!

My home for the next two days

And my little grumpy neighbour

And thus ends the day

Like most other villages in the forest, Gaunap has no electricity.. forget about running water. The government has given each house a solar panel to recharge some batteries so that they can at least run a few bulbs. In Sundar Singh’s house, he has done up four rooms which he lets out to travellers like me. The food is cooked by his mother and other than the rice, everything else comes from the family’s fields.  If you were to follow on my footsteps and find yourself in the dining room of Sundar Sing’s house, do not forget to ask for the desi ghee. Just add half a teaspoon to your dish and enjoy the heavenly taste!

You stay there as a part of the family. So if you can help these people with their work. I for one, was so excited on seeing a rajma tree for the first time that i immediately proceeded to harvest two of them. I was later told politely that the second plant was not ready to be harvested as yet.

Dinner-time

After dinner sky!

After dinner sky -II

It had been a long day. Began with a long ride, then was followed by a long walk and all i needed now was a long sleep. People do not lock their doors here, and i am glad that neither did i. I woke up in the middle of the night to go to the loo and realised that i could not see anything. A minute later i figured out that the clouds that were coming from the valley below had entered the room through the open door. So i slept , for the rest of the night in a room full of cloud!

Morning came in the form of Sunder Singh’s brother Mahesh bringing me a whole pot of some amazing herbal tea. I went to the balcony outside my room and finished the gallon of tea over the next hour and half while looking at the clouds moving around in the valley in front of me. Even the herbal tea was made from plants in the family’s garden.

View from my balcony. Good morning, folks!

Cloud-play

After i was well tea-d and well fed, Mahesh and i went out to survey the nearby mountains. Both days we spent hours walking across mountains and resting on rocks by the many streams. In the afternoons, i would have another gallon of tea, spend some time in the family’s fields undoing much of their hard work and then come back to my room and write reviews of the international edition of the India travel guide by candle-light.

Mahesh Singh replaces Sunder Singh

I'll follow you into the mist..

.. and the mist is gone!

So what if there are no trails.. just scramble up!

The snow clad pics are still hidden by clouds

An old Shiva Temple near the village

The walks were purely aimless. Mahesh knew the hills like the back of his hand so i could go anywhere i liked. We spotted some exotic bird species, some mountain goats and once from a great distance, a leopard. The forest around the village was composed mainly of tall pines and the ground was covered with pine needles. The rains had washed them clean and the red needles lay in fine contrast to the bright green of the freshly sprouted grass. Sometimes it would rain, then in a matter of minutes the sun would come out. Often, the clouds would come rushing in and i would lose sight of Mahesh. So i would wait where i stood and shout at the top of my lungs like a little girl until Mahesh found me.

On a more serious note, if you are ever trekking in these hills, especially in the hills, be careful of something the locals call bicchoo ghas (stinging grass). Although it is technically not a member of the grass family, the first part of its name is true. Even the slightest touch to exposed skin feels as if a red hot needle has been pushed in. I learned the hard way, so you just stay the hell out!

Looking at somebody's village. A patch of green in a larger sea of green

Clouds above me... clouds below me..

Discarded pine needles and the emerging juvenile grass

Walking on pine needles, all day long

On our walks, we would never carry water because we knew that we would encounter a gadhera (a mountain stream in Kumaoni language) every 200 m where we could quench our thirst. It was also fun to wade into the almost waist deep pools and try to catch the little fished that swam around in then in lightning fast speeds. Many of these gadheras mergee further down to give rise to larger streams, locally known as gadh (rhymes with ‘bar’).

Eden-esque

Another one

I had to wade through knee deep, ice-cold water to get there for the shot!

A stream's eye view

Mahesh, my best pal in Binsar

The night before i was supposed to leave for Delhi, the heavens opened up. It rained the entire night but held for a moment in the morning. Mahesh needed to get back to Almora where he studies in the high school and i was more than happy to give him a ride. So, the moment we left the village the rains came back and in spite of the rain gear, i got drenched in a matter of minutes. On top of that was the trek back to the TRH which was now uphill the whole way. Eventually after much huffing and puffing i managed to reach the TRH and by the time i left from there it was already 8 AM. That evening, i reached home  at 8:30 and it had been raining the whole way. This time, from Almora i went straight to Bhowali and from there i passed through Bheemtal, Haldwani, Kathgodam and Rudrapur and joined the Delhi highway at Modadabad.

Return Route

The greenish blue Kosi river that you had seen earlier in the post was unrecognisable. The muddy waters roared and frothed and fumed while from the mountains above me fell a steady stream of rocks and loose earth. I had to get out of there before there was a major landslide as I was to begin my big new job the very next day. So i drove 400 kms in pouring rain. In the process, i lost my glasses, ruined my mobile phone and spoiled the  magnetic strip of my debit card. Still, no regrets because i knew that while i was hating it that very moment, in the future (which is now) it will be another experience to share with you.

I have not yet decided what the next post is going to be. This new job takes up too much of my time, but i would love to get back to my dearest Madhya Pradesh.

So long then…

Fatboy in green hills!

Oh and i still had Rs 270 left!

Coming back to Narmada, like I said in the previous post, the lives of the people of the region revolve around the river. When kids are born, they are bathed in its holy waters; a pot of the sacred water is essential for every marriage, the daily rituals happens on its banks; and when they die, their ashes are scattered on its choppy dark waters. The Narmada is the cycle of life. It was not unusual that when the but I was travelling on from Maheshwar to Omkareshwar hit a bridge on the river, almost all of my co passengers raised their folded hands to their forehead and chanted in unison Jai Mata Narmadae!! I could translate it  for those who do not know what that means, but then the devotion would be lost in translation. So I’d rather not.

Omkareshwar!

My arrival at Omkareshwar was very eventful as well. I caught the bus one evening from the main bus stand at Maheshwar and prepared for what was going to be a two and a half hour journey. But i was in for a surprise. You see, for those who are not accustomed to travelling in buses in India, you must know that there are several types of services – Super Express, Express and Local. The names of the services might differ from state to state but in essence they remain similar. The Super Express has very limited stops on its way whereas the Local service will stop anywhere, all you need to do is stick out your hand. So the thing is what i thought was a super express, turned out to be a local.

So we stopped at every village and finally after three and a half hours we arrived at Sanawad, 15 kms from our destination. To my surprise the bus emptied itself and for the last leg, I was the only person in the bus. So I moved up front to the driver’s cabin and started a chat. The terrain from there on was hilly and the bus had a pair of grimy 40 W bulbs for a headlight. Worrying. More worrying when a single bolt of lightning tore through the night sky and almost immediately conjured up a dust storm of Biblical proportions. Okay..ALMOST Biblical proportions. By the time we reached the bust stand at Omkareshwar, the heavens had opened up and it was raining by the bucket-loads.

Omkareshwar is a vehicle free town, and as a result the main bust stand is outside the city limits and you need top walk from there. Not good news for lazy people like me. We waited in the bus for the rain to slow down and in a while, the driver conjured up two bottles of country made whiskey! That eased the pain considerably. Half an hour and three drinks later the rain held and I was able to walk down to my hotel for the night.

First view of the holy town!

Omkareshwar is located on the old volcanic rocks almost halfway down the Narmada’s course. Here the river passes through a narrow and deep gorge and in the process creates an island in the shape of the holy symbol ‘OM’. So technically it’s the island that’s called Omkareshwar, but just like the town, even its name has spilled over to both the banks.

A dharmashala in Omkareshwar

It was these banks that i set about exploring the morning next. Being vehicle free (motorcycles not included) the lanes of Omkareshwar were easy to navigate. They were lined, much like any other holy city in India with shops selling colourful puja paraphernalia and other trinkets and a score of dharmashalas. I eventually found my way to the Gomukh Ghat, one of the busiest places in Omkareshwar, just when the first sunlight was touching the temple spires.

The narrow and plunging gorge that the Narmada cuts in the ancient rocks of Omkareshwar is known as Gomukh, meaning the ‘mouth of the cow’. Legend has it that, long ago, a demon went on a rampage killing sages and sadhus. The sadhus assembled at Omkareshwar and prayed to Shiva for protection. Moved by their prayers, Shiva fought the demon and killed him with his trishul (trident).

To purify the trishul stained with the blood of the demon, Shiva flung it towards the Narmada at Omkareshwar. The trishul landed a fair distance from the river and its impact gave rise to an underground stream that resurfaces to meet the Narmada at the Gomukh. The stream is referred to as Kapildhara and the ghat built around it called the Gomukh Ghat.

beads and strings

Gomukh Ghat

Gomukh Ghat and the moored boats: A bird's view

One of the bridges to the island

Old palaces overlook the gathering crowd at Gomukh Ghat

There are two bridges connecting the mainland part of the town with the island, but many tourists and pilgrims prefer to cross over by boats from Gomukh ghat. The boats moored on the ghats carry a maximum of eight passengers and charge Rs 10 per head. You could also hire a boat to take you on a joyride on the Narmada. The boats sport colourful canopies and even more colourful names like Titanic, Tu Chor Main Sipahi (You are the convict and I’m the cop), Jalpari (mermaid), etc.  For the sinners among you, who want to attain redemption by taking a dip in the holy waters of the river, do be careful. The steps of the ghat are extremely slippery and as the Narmada flows through a gorge here, it is extremely deep. Also, crocodiles are known to stray here from time to time.

The ghat is located roughly midway between the two bridges. From  here, another shop lined, colourful lane winds up and down the hilly bank towards the newly constructed suspension bridge. Incidentally, both the bridges are for pedestrian traffic only. Although the policemen are known to turn a blind eye towards bicycles and motorcycles.

Piles of sindoor (vermilion)

A baby Krishna graces one of the piles of sindoor

Choose your god, sir!

Floral Offerings

Omkareshwar Mahadev Temple, also called Omkar Mandhata Temple, is the key attraction for pilgrims who visit the island. It is the ancient site of one of the 12 sacred jyotirlingas. Local legend holds that the linga, or cosmic pillar emblematic of Shiva’s procreative energy, arrived here as a result of the devotion of the mythological king Mandhata.

The white shikhara (spire) of the Omkar Mandhata Temple dominates the rocky little island that is sacred to millions of people

Seen from a boat, the Narmada here does feel like the cosmic ocean

Boats from the Gomukh Ghat dock here, and the steps then lead up to the temple. Shops, boats, merchandise and even the plastic sheets, everything adds to the riot of colours here

One more

Omkar Mandhata Temple is said to have been built by the Paramaras in the 11th century and rebuilt by the Holkars in the 19th century. The temple is suffused with symbolism, much like the island. Its shikhara is said to correspond with Mount Meru, the axis of the world according to Hindu mythology, and to overlook the cosmic ocean, represented by the Narmada.

A series of steps from the ghats leads up to the mandapa of the temple, marking the entrance of the enclosure. The mandapa is decorated with heavily carved soapstone pillars with elaborate capitals in the form of yakshis, while niches on either side are occupied by images of Ganesh, Ram, Sita, and other deities. As one crosses the mandapa, one encounters Nandi, Shiva’s divine vehicle. From the first mandapa, one ascends to the recently built sabha mandapa or prayer hall.

A vast terrace above the sabha mandapa leads to a small door through which one can enter the upper levels of the shikhara. Inside are three shrines, one above the other, enshrining more manifestations of Shiva – Siddhanath, Kedareshwar and Guptanath.

In the room just before the sanctuary

No kidding. This is the main deity in the temple

The two approaches to the temple are lined with shops selling baskets of flowers, incense and other puja paraphernalia. There are also people manning little stalls where for Rs 1 you can deposit your foot-wear for safekeeping till you are done with your darshan. It is likely that you will be approached by several priests and chances are that the experience might not be your best. You have been warned.

The temple is the hub of all activity in the island. All roads seem to converge here and it is the starting point of the famous Omkareshwar parikrama. The 16-km parikrama or circumambulation of the island starts from the Omkareshwar Mahadev Temple and proceeds clockwise around the island. Until a few years ago, the path of the parikrama was an unpaved road, making the journey quite arduous. Recently, a proper track has been laid. All along the road, painted on boards, are verses from the Bhagavad Gita in Sanskrit and Hindi.

Govindeshwar Gufa, at the base of the Omkar Mandhata temple is where the Omkareshwar parikrama begins

Along with temples old and new, ruins of ancient shrines and remains of fort walls, the path passes through a number of tiny villages. For generations, the villagers have served as priests and caretakers of the island’s many temples, and remain tied to this tradition even today. The route passes through a series of crests and troughs in the landscape and may be intimidating for those that are not used to long walks. The harsh Omkareshwar sun, which can be surprisingly hot even in winter months, is an added challenge. The best safeguard would be to drink enough water and rest when exhausted. I, for one was smart enough to start just at sunrise, to make sure that I was back in my hotel room by about noon.

In this journey, one encounters numerous langoors or hanumans. These monkeys are known to snatch food from people’s hands and it is a wise idea to carry foodstuff in covered bags.

Some truth in it!

Oh how the Narmada changes her look with every passing km

The writing on the wall

The sacred and purifying Narmada meets the fast flowing Kaveri at the sangam, or confluence, of these two rivers. Located on the westernmost part of the island of Omkareshwar, this narrow projection of land at the meeting point of the streams is covered with stones of all sizes shaped like shivalingas. The Kaveri, actually is not another river, but a part of the Narmada itself that encircles the island on the north.

Legend has it that it was here that Kuber, the god of wealth sat here and meditated without food and water for 100 years. Satisfied with his devotion, Lord Shiva appeared before Kuber and asked him what he wanted. To this Kuber replied that he wished to be the king of the Yakshas and gain immortality. Like all good mythological stories, his wish was granted and he lived happily ever after in the photo-frames in many a temple and home.

Apart from its religious sanctity, the sangam is the perfect spot to cool down after the arduous parikrama. It is a good idea to take off your shoes and sit on a rock while the cool water plays around your tired feet. Pilgrims are required to take a dip in the waters of the sangam to cleanse themselves before heading on.

The sangam - viewed from a distance

Walking among the pilgrims at the sangam

Saw these at the sangam. My best guess is that these are meant to ward off the evil eye

After the sangam, the parikrama route becomes even more interesting. The path takes a sudden turn and  after a few climbs one reached the top of the island. For the next few kilometres, the road is level. Here you come across broken fort walls and ruins of temples and gateways which prove that at one point of time, the city existed only in the island. Many of the old temples have been built over and modernised, some of them wonderfully preserved by the Archaeological Survey of India, but most are still in ruins.

Rinmukteshwar Temple - it is believed that if you pray here all your debts will vanish. Mine didn't.

On a large clearing, on the highest part of the island stands the Gauri Somnath Temple surrounded by numerous smaller shrines and a number of ashrams. Built in the early 15th century by the Paramaras, the temple was once faced with a pillared mandapa which is no longer extant.

In the garbhagriha of the temple is a 2 m high, black granite shivalinga. It is believed that this linga once possessed the power of revealing to a person their previous and future incarnations. When the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb (1618-1707) was passing through Omkareshwar, he expressed the wish to verify if this was true.

The story has it that the emperor was much disturbed by the linga’s revelations and, in a fit of rage, had the entire temple burnt down. The linga cracked in the intense heat and its surface was scarred and since then it has lost its special ability.

The state archaeological department runs a site museum at the premises of the Gauri Somnath Temple. While the more intricate and delicate sculptures are placed indoors, many others have been installed on pedestals all around the temple.

Gauri Somnath Temple

After you leave the temple and proceed onwards, to left of the parikrama path runs a fallen wall which was once about 9-12 m high. At various places on the parikrama route you will come across ruins which at first glance look like a pile of stones. Closer examination reveals that these are actually remains of the ancient walls of older temples, and gateways.

While most of these temples are barely recognisable, interestingly, some sculptures have survived almost intact. Some of these sculptures have been painted a bright red and a few have been taken over by nature with creepers spreading their delicate tendrils across them. The atmosphere here is completely different from that at the main ghat. It is almost as if two different towns exist on the same space.

The mammoth statue of Lord Shiva, a little distance away from the Gauri Somnath Temple

Ruins of a temple

Only the goddess survives

A ruined gateway

The air is so clean, so so so clean.

Flotsam

The parikrama path passes through another gateway

After descending through a valley, the road emerges on to the second plateau of the island, with the last destination on the parikrama, the famed Siddhanath Temple, perched on it. According to some historians, this is one of the oldest temples on the island.

A fine example of early medieval Hindu architecture, the temple is built on an adhisthana, or plinth, which is about 1 m in height. The sides of the plinth are embellished with an exquisite frieze depicting elephants in various postures. Legend has it that when the shikhara of the temple was still extant, lights in Mandu, 145 kms away, could be seen from it.

Recently a couple of silver Sheshnagas have been installed in the garbhagriha, shading the linga. Every day, a puja is performed here in which the linga is decorated with freshly picked flowers. The entire temple structure stands in the middle of a wide enclosure, which at one time could have been surrounded by high walls, though no sign of these exists today. The courtyard is filled with free-standing sculptures collected from this and other ancient shrines across the island. A walk through the courtyard reveals bharvahakas and chandrashilas along with numerous other temple fragments.

Siddhanath Temple, or whatever remains of it

When you reach the Siddhanath Temple, it means that the parikrama is almost over. It’s all the was downhill from there. From one point in the descent, you are offered a fabulous view of the town with the suspension bridge in the foreground and the path snaking through the river bed, which has shrunk substantially since the dam has come up.

Hey.. i can see the town again!

I had stared really early in the morning and had almost no breakfast. I had, however, stopped at many places on the road and rested or had nimboo paani. Times are tough for the villagers and to make the extra buck, many of them have opened up nimboo paani stalls. Please do stop at a couple of these stalls if you do the parikrama. The  10 rupees or so that you spend on this delicious and refreshing drink wont hurt you much, but to the villager, it is precious. Support the local economy, buy the nimboo paani.

Anyway, in spite of all the drinking and stopping, I managed to finish the walk by noon and headed to the MPSTDC rest house for lunch. It is on  top of a hill on the mainland part of the town and offers a stunning view of the island with its temples and little houses and the Narmada in the foreground.

View of Omkareshwar Town from the MPSTDC property

While most sites of tourist and religious interest in Omkareshwar are along the parikrama path on the island, the town itself, on the other side of the river, is home to a number of attractions, the most significant being the Mamleshwar Temple. It is in the mainland part of the town where most tourist infrastructure is concentrated. A walk through the narrow lanes of the town reveals a large number of dharamshalas or religious rest houses (dharma means ‘religion’ while shala means ‘sanctuary’). Many Indian communities, such as the Rajputs, the Agarwals, the Yadavas and the Jats, have their own dharamshalas in this town. All the markets, the police station, municipality offices, the main bus stand and hospitals are also located here.

Mamleshwar Temple is located barely 200 m from Gomukh Ghat. Also known as Amaleshwar, Mamleshwar is generally considered to enshrine one half of the jyotirlinga, the other half of which rests in Omkar Mandhata Temple on the island. Set in a walled enclosure and meticulously maintained by the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI), the east facing temple is five-storeyed with a shivalinga enshrined on each floor. The enclosure also has six other temples built on the lines of the main temple.

Mamleshwar Temple

Nandi Nandi burning bright!

The long parikrama and the hearty lunch thereafter propelled me towards my hotel room where i spend the rest of the afternoon sleeping. At around 4 in the afternoon, relaxed and rested, I set forth again, this time to explore the Omkareshwar Palace. Commanding a wide view of the Narmada and the town, the palace is located on the island on a flat piece of land above the Omkar Mandhata Temple. A narrow lane leads from the bustling flower market at the ghat and winds up to the entrance to the palace. From the outside, the entire palace looks like a single structure, but upon entering it is revealed that it is actually a series of three large courtyards surrounded by rooms on two levels.

The most striking aspect of the palace is the central room or the durbar. It was here that the king would receive guests and preside over the affairs of the state. The circular ceiling of the hall was once painted and inlaid with glass. Although the past glories of the Holkars have since faded, traces of their grandeur are still clearly discernible. When you visit, the chances are that the bright fluorescent colours that you see in the photograph will still be there, but i can guarantee you that back in the good old day of the maharajas, it looked classier. Taste, you see, has taken a nosedive since then.

The southern wall of the durbar hall opens into three jharokhas (projecting balconies). These balconies with their superb view of the temple town make the perfect vantage points for observing life in the town below.

Omkareshwar Palace as seen from the Omkar Mandhata Temple

And as seen from the MPSTDC property

God in the wall!

Ma Narmada - Graffiti seen on the wall of a house on the way to the palace

Huffing and puffing up the stone steps with goats leading my way

The Durbar Hall.. in Eastman colours!

View of Omkareshwar from the palace jharokhas

'Is everything alright down there?'

I couldn’t end my narrative on Omkareshwar without a mention of the daring kids that make a living from the waters of the river. They lead, what I call a recycle business. When devotees offer their prayers on the ghats, they usually throw a lot of flowers, colours and coconuts on the river. The kids, sometimes on boats and sometimes on inflated tire tubes  venture into the river and pick up the floating coconuts and bring them to their parents who then sell them again.

Incidentally, I have seen the same thing in Mumbai. Lots of people offer coconuts to the dogs in marine drive. Following them are a group of youngsters armed with a basket tied at the end of a length of rope. Just as the devotees have turned their backs, they come out swinging their baskets with the same air that a cowboy would swing his lasso. eventually every coconut would be fished out from the sea and resold. We Indians are very inventive and innovative people, you see!

The recycle boys

The recycle boys on the job

A travel writer’s job is not easy. You often have to talk the talk while you walk the walk. Omkareshwar was one such trip. In spite of the afternoon siesta, I was tired, so I headed off to a local barber’s for a wet shave and a nice champi. For the philistine, it is a sort of head massage with fragrant, mint infused herbal oil. If done  right, it has the power to relieve you of any stress, mental or physical. My guy was good and before I knew it I was fast asleep.

Jadu ki Champi!

Freshly massaged and feeling like a million bucks I headed off to the ghat for a cup of tea and a moment of quiet reflection. Dusk had just started to set in and one by one the lights started to come on. Before I knew it was dark and the temples on the islands were lit up. The waters of the Narmada were now forebodingly dark and on its choppy surface danced a million reflections of the thousand lights that shone on the island. I sat there until one by one most of the lights had been switched off and all the shops had closed down. All I heard as I walked the deserted streets back to the hotel were the distant chiming of the temple bells.

When the stars go blue

In the next post, I shall be talking about the road trip I took to a scenic hill station in the middle of the monsoon. That reminds me, unlike my other trips, this time I had used public transport. From Indore to Maheshwar, from Maheshwar to Omkareshwar and from Omkareshwar back to Indore, it was all on crowded buses, and how I loved it.

On my return trip, I shared a seat with a guy my age who was travelling with his two little daughters. The first thing he did after he sat down was to deposit the smaller of the two on my lap. Trust comes as a given. You are, on a long journey supposed to look after each other and their children. I guess to illustrate the point even further, halfway down the journey, he leaned his head against my shoulders and went to sleep!

Oh, how I love my India!

I, Pillow!

Narmada at Maheshwar

She is known by many names, one of them being Shankari, or the ‘daughter of Shankar (Lord Shiva)’. It is believed that she was borne out of a drop of tear that fell out of Shiva’s eyes. Narmada’s connection with Shiva does not end here. Anyone who has travelled to any town on the Narmada has heard the saying ‘Narmada ke kankar utte Shankar‘, meaning ‘Shiva lives in each pebble on which the Narmada flows’. True to the legend, the banks of the Narmada are replete with cylindrical pebbles, looking rather similar to the shivalingas worshipped across India. Banalingas, as they are better known are collected by tourists and pilgrims and taken back to their homes.

The Narmada, for most of its course flows through Madhya Pradesh, a state that has always amazed me. Owing to its sanctity, there are many temple towns on the river. Amarkantak, at the border of Madhya Pradesh and Chhattisgarh, where the river originates is one of the holiest places in India, and so is Omkareshwar, which is located roughly midway through the river’s course. And then there is Maheshwar. This tiny town on the banks of the Narmada is known not for its temples but for its benevolent queen, Ahilya Bai Holkar, considered by many as a goddess. Also, there is the famed Maheshwari saris, a dying weaving style which has now, fortunately, been revived.

I set off from Delhi for Maheshwar and Omkareshwar on a rainy November night from Hazarat Nizamuddin Railway station. My train would take me to Indore from where I would continue by bus, first to Maheshwar and then to Omkareshwar.  I reached Indore station at 5:30 in the morning and then caught an auto to Sarwate Bus Terminus. Maheshwar is 92 kms from Indore and depending on the bus you take (express, super or local) the journey could take you anywhere between 2.5 to 4.5 hours. Luckily for me I managed to get hold of an express bus which was scheduled to leave at 8:00 am. The bus followed the beautifully laid National Highway 3 till the town of Dhamnod from where it diverted off to a charming double-laned road for the last 15 kms to Maheshwar.

Narmada, as seen through the pillars of the Kashi Vishwanath Temple in Maheshwar

After alighting in the main square at Maheshwar, I realised that staying options in this town was very limited. There was the Fort Ahilya, a very expensive heritage hotel and a couple of tiny lodges. After some asking around, I was shown into a very basic, yet clean room for Rs 400 a night. Since I am not fussy about accommodation, provided it is clean, I took it. A quick shower later, I was all ready to explore Maheshwar.

The landscape around Maheshwar is typical of the Nimar plains which are drained by the Narmada. Scorchingly hot in the summers and warm during the winters, this undulating land is composed of red soil, which itself is derived from the ancient lava rocks that once covered the region. One afternoon during my trip, I borrowed a moped from the owner of the hotel I was staying in and drove for around 75 kms on the small roads leading out of the town connecting it to the tiny villages.

The red soil of the Nimar plains. Some say that these plains have seen so much battle that the blood of the fallen have coloured the whole land read.

Bhils, the tribe that populate the arid plains were once hunters. Civilisation has made them drop their lethal bows and arrows and pick up shovels.

A small dargah

As instructed by the owner of the hotel and the moped, i drove around 5 kms on a dirt track to the top of a hill west of Maheshwar town. From there one could see the Narmada tumbling over a rocky bed giving rise to thousands of tiny streams. It is for this exact reason that this cascade has been called Sahasradhara (Sahasra, in Hindi means ‘a thousand’ while dhara means ‘stream’)

Sahasradhara

Surroundings visited, I turned my attention to the town itself. All there is to see in Maheshwar is located inside its fort, and to get to the fort, one has to walk two kms through the busy market. Although it was November, the afternoon soon was burning in all its fury and the temperature was hovering around the 40 degree mark. It was as if the entire town had gone for a collective siesta. The shops were open but there were no shopkeepers. The customers too were absent. Every know or then I would spot a stray canine, a dusty kid running after a rolling, used bicycle tyre or a housewife making a quick trip to the grocer.

A shop selling framed images of Maheshwar's famed queen, Ahilya Bai Holkar

Before and After?

Very soon, the north gate of the fort, Ahilya Dwar was visible. Previously known as Gadi Darwaza, it is the largest gate and the only way to enter the fort on a vehicle. Just as you enter through the gate, to your right is the quaint Laboo’s Cafe. Stop here for some much-needed lemonade or if hungry, a home-made lunch. The café also offers rooms to travellers, which in my opinion was a little overpriced.

Ahilya Dwar from the inside

Laboo's Cafe

A tiny wall-shrine in the café

As you enter through the gateway, you also step into the old, walled city of Maheshwar. Although people continue to live here, the main city and its all-important market lies outside these walls.

Straight ahead of Laboo’s Cafe is a small gateway which is the entrance to the Rajwada, or the palace. Half of the palace has now been converted into the luxurious Fort Ahilya Heritage Hotel, while the other half has been converted to a museum and is open to the public. The first thing that strikes you about the palace is its simplicity. If you have travelled to historic destinations around India, you would have noticed the opulent palaces that the rulers used to live in. This is a complete antithesis to the seemingly vulgar pandering of wealth, often accumulated over the blood of poor farmers. It is not that Ahilya Bai, the Holkar queen who constructed much of this fort or the palace was the queen of a small dominion, unable to muster money for such luxuries. At the height of her rule, she controlled over half of what is now Madhya Pradesh.

She spent the money instead on building temples. The famed Kashi Vishwanath Temple in Varanasi was built by her. She constructed temples, dharmashalas (guest houses) and baolis (wells) in Haridwar, Badrinath, Rameshwaram, Kanchi, Jagannath Puri, Pushkar, Nasik and Pune. She is, even today depicted wearing a simple white sari, the same costume she used to wear while she was the queen. It is said that she possessed only three of these saris, all of which were woven by her.

View of the Rajwada from the front

View of one of the courtyards in the Rajwada

Lord Krishna and his cows keep an eye on the main entrance

The simplicity of the queen can be further seen at her so-called durbar hall, where she conducted the affairs of the state and held audiences with the average person. Located on the verandah in her wing of the palace, it is nothing but a white mattress covering the floor with a low, wooden throne at one end of it. These days, a white marble image of the queen can be seen on the throne.

The audience 'hall'

From the simple to the plush. Here are some snapshots of the Fort Ahilya Hotel in the palace:

Old World

The swimming pool

One of the many charming courtyards in the hotel.

Maheshwar town viewed from the ramparts of the fort

A double storeyed gateway, directly opposite the main entrance to the Rajwada leads to a flight of steps leading down to a cluster of buildings on the banks of the Narmada. It is from this gateway that you get your first glimpse of this holy river, which at this point is over a mile wide!

At the foot of the flight of stairs, to the right is another gateway, which opens into a compound at the centre of which lies the Chhatri (mausoleum) of Vitoji Rao Holkar. He was the younger brother of king Yashwant Rao Holkar (1798-1811). Built on a high plinth and sporting two bulbous domes, this chhatri is known for its exquisite carvings, especially that of a row of caparisoned elephants on its side.

Chhatri of Vitoji

Another angle

The beautifully carved row of elephants

A night-shot

Facing the entrance to the Chhatri of Vitoji is a gateway to yet another enclosure which houses the Ahilyeshwar Shivalaya. Although it sounds like a Shiva temple, and is definitely built like one, it is actually the chhatri of Ahilya Bai Holkar. Built by the queen’s daughter Krishna Bai, this towering structure combines the north Indian nagara style of temple architecture with the Maratha style.

Ahilyeshwar Shivalaya

A night-shot of the chhatri's spire

Inside the chhatri's sanctum. The priest decides to pose

While on the outside, his wife tries her hand at modelling!

Interesting sculptures in the chhatri

From the enclosure that houses the two chhatris, another gateway leads to yet another flight of stairs that forms the main ghat of Maheshwar. Almost two kms of the riverfront of Maheshwar has been paved in stone to give rise to a series of ghats.  Of a total of 28 ghats, the most important are Ahilya, Peshwa, Phanse and Mahila

Gateway leading to the ghats

Sculpture on the walls

Ever so faithful

Perfect place for a quiet prayer

Just like a couple of centuries ago, the lives of the people of Maheshwar revolve around the ghats. At daybreak, people throng to the ghats to offer their prayers. The morning air resounds with chants of Om Namah Shivay as people brave the morning chill to take a dip in the holy waters of the Narmada. Locals believe that the waters of the river have purifying properties and hence a morning dip ensures success in the day’s endeavours.

The holy dip

A priest readies himself for the worshippers

While some opt for a more personalised service!

Others busy themselves with the yoga routine...

..and I capture a quick mug shot of the self!

After the initial stream of devotees have taken their dips and have gone on their respective missions, come the tourists. Colourful boats lie moored on the ghats to take the tourists for a cruise on the waters of the Narmada.  There are two kinds of boats available at the ghat – row-boats and the ones powered by modified motorbike engines. While the latter is definitely faster, they create one hell of a racket, which can effectively ruin the ambiance of a quiet  morning. So it is advisable to take the row-boat. Oh, and do bargain beforehand not only about the price, but also the duration of the ride. I hired a row-boat which took me around the river for a good hour and I paid Rs 150. Also, if you can, do tip!

Them tourists!

Leaving the ghat on my beautiful red boat

Many of the temples and ghats of Maheshwar are best viewed from the boat. I shall describe them as we go along:

Located on the Mahila Ghat is Laxmi Bai ki Chhatri. However, do not let the name fool you, as it really is the chhatri of Ahilya Bai's daughter, Krishna Bai

On an island in the middle of the river stands the Baneshwar Mahadev Temple. It is believed that a heavenly line (an axis of sorts) from the North Star passes through this temple to the earth's centre

Mid-river bliss

The Narmada is but an ocean

..and all of humanity a mere island.

And back at the ghat

As the day rolls on and the devotees and tourists have long vacated the ghats, come another group of visitors. Predominantly women, they do most of their cleaning and washing on the waters of the Narmada.

One of my favourite shots from this trip!

Done for the day!

On my long walks across Maheshwar, I was accompanied by a local boy, Chhotu, who was acting like my guide. He used to work as a waiter at the Fort Ahilya Hotel and as a result had picked up a spattering of English which he was more than eager to advertise. On the last day at Maheshwar, which I had left for visiting the weavers, he tells me ‘saar, mere paas one more temple hai. Chalein?’.

‘Chalo’, says I

So he leads me on this dusty track by the side of the Narmada. Very conveniently, he had forgotten to mention that we would be walking for around 3 kms, one way. So I did not bother to carry water with me. The river water was full of all kinds of rubbish and was undrinkable. So I walked on in the 40 degree heat without water or shade. We finally stopped at the base of a steep hill which had a small ghat and seven small shrines on it. The shrines, Chhotu says are to the ‘seven mothers’, but refuses to explain further. Their identity remains hidden forever. What I did learn was that this site was called the Sapta Martuka Mandir. On top of the hill in the background, however is a 17th century pre-Holkar Shiva temple known as Jaleshwar Mahadev Mandir. The priest of the temple was kind enough to save mu life with some water.

The track by the river

The shrines of the seven mothers with the Jaleshwar Mahadev Temple rising in the background

This is also the point where a smaller river, called Maheshwar, after the town, joins the Narmada. At the point where the two join is a small hill surrounded by water. On top of the hill is another, even older temple which, interestingly, is heavily fortified. Sadly though, there were no boats here to take us across , so we had to give it a miss.

The fortified Kaleshwar Mahadev Temple

With barely hours left for my bus to Omkareshwar, Chhotu and head off to the weavers’ colonies. A few decades ago, the art of weaving a Maheshwari sari was almost at its deathbed. Richard Holkar, the current scion of the royal family and his wife Sally, while on a visit to Maheshwar realised the need to revive it. So with a paltry grant from the Indian Central Welfare Board, in 1979, they started a weaving project involving the local women and called it the Rehwa Society. Rehwa, or Rewa, is another name for the river Narmada.

Over the next three decades, the number of weavers has gone up to 250 and they operate over 1,500 traditional looms. Inspired by the success of the Rehwa Society, individuals have also taken up weaving and now within the walled city, the stillness of the sir is broken at all hours by the click-clacking of the wooden looms. Though the weavers, back in the day produced mainly saris, the modern weavers have diversified into dupattas, scarves, shawls and dress material.

The traditional loom

The weavers are mostly women

The quaint building housing the Rehwa Society

Maheshwari saris are usually coloured using vegetable dyes, though to bring down prices some weavers do use chemical dyes. The most popular colours used in Maheshwari saris are angoori (grape green), dalimbi (deep pink), gul bakshi (magenta), jaamla (purple), tapkeer (deep brown) and aamras (golden-yellow). The pallav or aanchal of a Maheshwari sari is distinctive with five alternating stripes of which three are of different colours and two are white. The use of zari and kinari is used to embellish the saris which often have a rich golden border and two gold bands on the pallav. The unique feature of a Maheshwari sari is its reversible border. The border is designed in such a way that both sides of the sari can be worn. An original Maheshwari sari can cost anywhere between Rs 1,500 to Rs 5,000. The fine, airy cloth is perfect for hot Indian summers while the blend of silk and cotton makes the cloth float above the skin.

I am no sari photographer, but still...

Another one

My two days in Maheshwar has been extremely rewarding and at the end of it I was off to Omkareshwar. Predominantly a temple town, the vibe of Omkareshwar would be completely different from Maheshwar. On top of that, this particular trip was planned on a shoe-string budget, which means that all the travelling was done on buses – another experience.

Watch this space for the Omkareshwar chapter of this series. Till then I leave you with two images of the sunset on the Narmada.

Tequilla sunset

The late goodbye

Good morning!

The previous night I had ensured a miserable morning by consuming way too much semi-country liquor in the form of  ’Officer’s Choice Premium Whiskey’. I woke up in the middle of the night with a dry mouth and a drum-line in my head. Damn! Its going to be worse in the morning, and it was. I am sure I don’t need to explain a hangover to you good people, but this situation was a bit unique. I had to ride on some of the worst hill roads with this. As we left the city and the potholes started appearing, I reduced my pace. Even then every jerk, every stone on which the tires passed was magnified 10 times in my head. Nightmare!

A typical Himachal village, with the temple in the centre!

After 20 kms of driving, even the cool morning air was no match against the throbbing headache. So we decided to stop at a village on the way for some food. The shops were just opening, and we helped ourselves to some tea and bun-omelettes. While we were waiting for our food to arrive, we noticed villagers sitting by the side of the road, waiting for their vehicles (bus / shared jeeps) to arrive and take them to their respective destinations.  I had seen this all along our current journey and on the previous ride on the hills. These people wait patiently for hours at times and, always with a smile on their faces.

When the wait is over and the inevitably overcrowded vehicle arrives, people immediately make seats for the new passengers and their luggage. Kids sit on the laps of total strangers and if someone opens a box of food, it is usually passed on among all the occupants of the car. We city-folk are impatient and always craving the ‘space’ that we all love. Sometimes I feel, that I must dump the bike and make at least one trip to the hills travelling like the locals do. Maybe then I will discover the secrets behind their happiness.

Waiting for the ride

Anyway, moving on to my unhappiness, my massive hangover refused to abate even after a full breakfast, do I decided to ignore it (try to at least) and move ahead. I was riding a bit ahead of Sumantra and after about 18 kms from our breakfast stop, I stopped at the fort on the road at the village of Sungar where the road forks in two. The one on the right leads to Rampur, 62 kms away and the other to our destination, Narkanda, 40 kms away.

While I waited on the crossroads for Sumantra to arrive, I got a phone call instead. He had broken his clutch wire and was stranded by the road. I took a U-turn and headed back and found that he was barely 4 kms behind me. We were carrying spares, but not a set of pliers that you need to fix the cable. So off I went to the nearby village and the helpful folk lent me one. Sumantra’s bike is new and has the new UCE engine. Unlike my bike, you dont need to open the gearbox to attach one end of the cable. You just need to connect it to a lever of sorts that sticks out of the integrated gearbox-cum-crank case. It sounds simple, but in reality, we were stumped.. After going at it for like half an hour, tired and embarrassed, we decided to roll back towards Rohru.

Fortunately for Sumantra, around 95% of the road towards Rohru was downhill so he could just roll down. While he proceeded towards Rohru, I went back to th village to return the set of borrowed pliers. We reached town in under an hour, all thanks to Mr Gravity and began searching for a mechanic. We did find motorcycle mechanics, but none would touch a Bullet. So I asked Sumantra to wait by the road while I went ahead, found a mechanic and brought him back to where he was waiting. Bike fixed, we then stopped for a quick bite and left Rohru for Narkanda for the second time in the same morning.

Towards Narkanda

The 40 kms from Sungar to Narkanda was by far the worst roads we had come across during the entire trip, and that’s saying something. It actually took us more than 2.5 hours to cover the stretch and we barely stopped for photographs.

Stoned!

Check out the surface... and this was the 'good' stretch

Butt-break!

Switchbacks

All along the way, re rarely encountered any traffic and except for tiny 10-house hamlets, there has no habitation. The first town on this route was Baghi, from where Narkanda was another 15 kms. Except for the stretch in the town, the roads continued to be bad, but there was a drastic change in scenery. The Pine forests were back, and oh how I love them!

Pine-d

Yes, my roommate is a Blackberry addict!

The final few miles to Narkanda

Very soon our trials came to an end as we joined the National Highway 22 for the last few kms towards Narkanda. I had a booking at a hotel here but i was interested in getting accommodation at the Circuit House here. This is the thing about government properties.. they are usually in the best places and more often than not are housed in colonial properties. So just before entering the town, we took the road leading off left towards the Circuit House. We found the manager and as usual he went off on the you-need-permission-to-stay-here rant. The thing is, you actually need permission to stay here from the District Collectorate, but if rooms are empty, you can usually coax the manager to spare you one. And that’s exactly what happened.

Narkanda Circuit House

The old building had been modernised rather tastefully, although I wouldn’t mind if they would have preserved the original projecting balconies. The smartest thing here is that most of the appliances like the water heaters, corridor and lawn lights, etc run on solar power.

Lounge area just outside our room

The room itself. Notice the curious room heater on the left. Dint get to use it though!

One of the main attractions of Narkanda is the temple  to goddess Hatu, on top of a peak with the same name. A small road, branching off the NH 22 takes you to the peak. In the span of a mere six kms, this road takes you from a height of 2300 m to 3400 m.

Hatu Peak, as viewed from the lawn of the Circuit House

Sumantra was feeling tired after the ordeals of the day and decided to stay back and relax in the room while I went off exploring Hatu peak. Right after the point when the road branches off from the highway, the steep climb begins. Thankfully, the entire road to the top, although very narrow, was metalled.  I had left my luggage at the circuit house and being significantly lighter, had no problems negotiating the steep climbs and the hair-pin curves.

The road to Hatu branches off from NH 22

On the way to Hatu

On the way to Hatu

On the way to Hatu

On the way to Hatu

After around 20 mins of enjoyable climbing up this steep road, I finally reached the top. It was in the dying lights of the day, and most of the tourists for the day had descended, leaving behind piles of rubbish. It’s very sad when you see that even educated people today totally devoid of respect for the nature. It completely beats me how one can litter in a place as beautiful as this.

Angst aside, the temple did disappoint me. It was a new structure and though the woodwork panels might seem appealing to some, for people who have seen older temples in Himachal and Uttaranchal, this is quite mediocre. I would, however be glad to spend a night at the tiny, one-room PWD rest house here at the peak.

A night here, what say?

Bullet in the blue sky! I Love this goddamn machine. Love it to death!

From the bird's-eye

I was a bit apprehensive of the setting sun and after like half an hour on the peak, I slowly started to make my way down. Now it must be said here that I am severely scared of heights. In fact, I travel to the hills so that someday I will be able to get rid of it. So while climbing was not an issue, but going downhill was. I could literally feel the heart thumping in my chest, louder than the exhaust note on the silencer. This was not the fear that later translates into a rush. This was pure, unmitigated terror. I remember finally, after what seemed like years, when I reached the NH 22, I realised that my mouth was totally dry. I wasn’t so scared even when I was descending down the Rohtang Pass on a road covered by a layer of 8-inch thick sludge.

My constant fear was the rear wheel locking or me going off the edge after miscalculating the turn on a hair-pin. So I stopped regularly when there was the rare flat yard or two, and honked frantically around the corners.

On the way down

Village down below!

I finally reached the room when it had just started to get dark. A refreshing hot bath later, i was happily tucked in the blankets.

The next day would be, and was tough. We had to cover around 500 kms to reach Delhi. On top of that the we would not have the comfort of the cool mountains. The next morning, we started from Narkanda by 7:30 AM and hit the plains at Kalka at 12:30 pm. From there on it was a drive through the scorching NH1 all the way to Delhi. It was almost 45 degrees in the open and the air hit you like a blast from the furnace. We had to stop every 30-40 kms to hydrate. You could actually feel the sun sucking out all the moisture from your body.  We finally managed to reach home at 8:30 pm, dirty, dusty and severely dehydrated.

And now for the best part. While descending from Narkanda to Delhi, i got a fuel economy of 42 kmpl on the Machismo 500. That too when we were going at a constant 80 kmph in the heat. Eat dirt, Jap-crap!

Memories of the distant hills!

In the next post, we travel from Himachal up north to Madhya Pradesh at the very heart of India and explore two small towns with two very distinct vibes, both on the banks of the Holy Narmada!

Come with me as I receive enlightenment and a nice oil massage by the river!

So long, friends…

How wrong was i!

Anyway, to cut a long story short, if you are ever in Chakrata, watch out for the monkeys who seem to outnumber the people and are arguably more daring than the special forces trained and stationed here.  There was a small rip on the leather covering my seat, and while the bike was parked outside, the damned creatures had ripped the leather off, torn away chunks of the foam underneath and as a reasult of their actions the dew had gotten inside the foam and I had to ride the rest of the day seated on wet foam. Not good news for the butt!

Also, the moment you leave Chakrata, the road surface leaves you too. Sure, there was a road here… say in the last century, but all that remains are the gravel and rocks and the fine soil on which the roads were laid, and the potholes! Oh yes, the potholes. With all this happening in the background, we had to call it at day at Rohru, 142 kms from Chakrata.

We managed to roll out of Chakrata by 8 am. By this time we were certain that we would have to stop at Rohru and then proceed to Chail the next day, via Narkanda. On the way to Rohru, we would take a slight detour to ride to Deoban, a hill which is accessible by a charming, and very tough track.

Riding out of Chakrata

Didn't you always dream of having a house like this?

Village on the way to Deoban

The road to Deoban (literally ‘forest of the gods’) branches off from the Chakrata-Tiuni Road around 8 kms after Chakrata. A board at the beginning of the track stipulates its length at 3.9 kms, but do not be fooled, O discerning traveller, for to reach Deoban, man and machine needs to toil for 11 kms. One way.

The road would only get worse, and the gradient steeper!

Hair pinning! Pic by Sumantra Ray

In the course of 11 kms, we would climb from around 1800 m to 2815 m at Deoban top. The track was either loose gravel, fairly large rocks, loose earth and at times, even grass! There were numerous hair-pin bends and it was a relief to see that almost all of them were cemented (see pic above). In spite of these small mercies, it was mostly a 1st and 2nd gear climb. Although to be very honest, I did get into the 3rd for some time in the middle. Having trusted the board at the beginning of the road, we stopped at a point which we thought would be roughly mid-way to the top and took the only pic of the both of us with the bikes. Thank you, self timer!

Them posers!

After this shot was taken, i went ahead and stopped at every possible place to take photos of the bike. The results are as under.

The name's Dope!

Happiness!

Whenever possible, I stopped and clicked photographs of the road and the surroundings in general. Although the road we branched out from saw fairly thin traffic, this was something else. There was not a soul in sight.

Deoban roads

The rare flat stretch

True story!

So folks, after almost an hour of bouncing over rocks and fish-tailing over gravel, I managed to reached the end of the road. There stood a quaint little bungalow, occupied by the army. It is at the top of a peak and from the bungalow starts a meadow which stretches for a little distance along the slopes of the hill before ending at a forest of pines. I waited a bit for Sumantra to show up, and then ventured into the meadow to explore it a bit.

Deoban Top

A little further down the meadow

Where the meadow meets the pines!

In the pines

Sumantra showed up in a while and we sat there and shot a bit and shared a smoke. In due time, a villager showed up with his herd of buffaloes and we got talking with him and were promptly invited to his village which was ‘over those hills’. We respectfully declined and proceeded downwards to rejoin the main road and resume the next course of our journey. One the way we ran into a herd of feral horses and got the only view of snow-capped peaks (which Sumantra missed).

You shoot me..

And I shoot you!

Scampering down

Peek-a-boo!

Thanks to gravity, getting down from Deoban took only a fraction of the time we took to climb up. As we rejoined the Chakrata-Tiuni Road, the initial few kms were good tarmac, but the nightmare began soon after. Average speeds dropped to around 30 kmph and we were starting to feel the monumental task we had in hand of completing the ride in the stipulated four days. During this stretch, we mostly climbed until we hit a fork in the road. We asked the people around and we took the road on the right and immediately the descent began. From here on, we would mostly descend all the way to Tiuni, 60 kms away and at an altitude of around 800 m. From there on, we would climb to Rohru, around 1600 m, and 40 kms from Tiuni.

The roads were crazy, but the views sure were divine

Good stuff, by Sumantra Ray

I was travelling around 2-3 kms ahead of Sumantra, and around 3 kms before the village of Koti, I came across a beautiful sight. The road we were travelling on was through a dense pine forest. At this point, however, the forest was broken by a beautiful meadow, bugyal, in the local language. At one corner of the meadow was a tiny Shiva temple and the occasional chiming of the temple bells resonated through the immense pine trees that surrounded the meadow on all sides. I immediately parked the bike and stood at the side of the road for Sumantra to arrive. We had driven close to two hours over these non-existent roads, and we needed a break. What better place than this?

Tall..tall grew the pines!

Sumantra arrives

low angle shots are always nice. I wish I got good light, though

Smile pleej!

Smile Pleej.. round 2!

The tall pines

And our bulls... Pic by Sumantra Ray

While we rested under the shade of the tallest pine, I thought ‘why dont I drive my bike on this meadow?’. It was a brilliant idea.. at least I thought so. The soft grass under the wheels would be welcome after the miles of rocks and loose gravel. So off I went:

Here I come...

Glee...

Here I go!

Setting off from Paradise

An avenue in the sky!

After spending close to an hour at the beautiful meadow, we reluctantly headed off to the village of Koti, 3 kms away, hoping to find some lunch. We managed to find a restaurant here and were served with fresh, delicious food. And what else, the tiny one-room eatery had a view too!

The nice little restaurant

Well fed and well rested, we resumed our journey to Tiuni. The roads were getting wilder by the minute.

Break

Wild and beautiful

Readers, please recommend something funny for the caption for this image!

After what seemed like a long, long time, we reached the tiny town of Tiuni, on the Pabbar River. The river was the boundary between the states of Uttarakhand and Himachal Pradesh. It was close to four in the afternoon and our destination was still around 40 kms away. While it does not sound like a long distance, but considering the roads we had encountered, it could take us anywhere between two to three hours. And it did!

On the banks of the Pabbar in Tiuni

At Tiuni, we crossed the bridge to the other side of the river. The road would follow the river for the rest of the journey until Rohru. Just as we crossed the town, the light started getting better, which meant that I stopped more often to shoot, which in turn meant more delays, but somehow I was not complaining.

Along flows the Pabbar

Valley in the golden light

Village in the valley

Brilliant afternoon light

A small house outside Hatkoti

Around 20 kms after Tiuni, as we passed by the town of Hatkoti, it felt like a repeat of what I had seen the previous day at Chakrata. While one side of the sky was ablaze with the setting sun, the other was laden with elephant-grey storm clouds. The effect of both these extremes on the lens was quite interesting.

Anyway, very soon we came to a point where the Pabbar river bas practically flowing along the road. So we drove the bikes down the rather steep embankment by the side of the road and parked it by the side of the water. The water wasn’t deep, maximum ankle high, and was flowing over a wide bed of pebbles. Across the road were the mountains, set against the backdrop of a nearly black sky. A small suspension bridge at the distance only added a rustic touch to the picture perfect setting. A couple of cabbies were washing their vehicles on the river bed and I decided to join them on the river. So off came the shoes and the trousers and I headed out to wade in the waters in my boxers. The first step felt like a hundred of needle-pricks as the water was ice-cold. In time, though, it became bearable and enjoyable even.

The spot where we rested

A slightly different frame

Bikes parked, clothes and shoes off, it was time to walk the river

Bon.Homies!

Even the horses were here for a stroll

After the river frolic, we tanked up at a nearby petrol pump and resumed on our way to Rohru. After a few kilometres, however, we were stopped by a landslide. Fortunately, however, a bulldozer was already at work and in no time it carved a road in the rubble wide enough for one vehicle to pass at a time. Just after crossing the landslide zone we saw that the entire road is being widened and the hillside has been excavated.

As a result, the entire stretch of the road looked like a huge destruction zone. the road surface was barely visible and everything was covered with at least two inches of very, very fine soil. The clouds were getting darker and the wind was picking up. The fine dirt on the ground meant, it soon turned into a full-blown dust storm.

So I just did me some talking to the sun

But there's one thing I know; the blues they send to meet me won't defeat me

On the outskirts of Rohru

Just as we reached the outskirts of Rohru, we could feel fat drops of rain in the dust storm. The roads were deserted and there was all kind of foliage flying through the air. Just like your old spaghetti western movie when our heroes enter a dusty, empty, frontier town! And to add to the drama, there was a rainbow over Rohru!

Into the wild, wild north!

It won't be long till happiness steps up to greet me!

Fantasies aside, the weather was getting worse by the minute. The isolated drops from ten minutes back now showed every signs of a heavy downpour and we sought shelter in the nearest hotel.

View from my hotel room

View from my hotel room

After unpacking we realised that we did not have soaps, and unlike hotels elsewhere in the world, the one we are staying at did not give you any. So we waited while the rains held up a little and proceeded to the market to get some. Somehow we were distracted by the sight of a local bar and walked straight in.  The best part about the bar was that you could either get your drinks by the peg, or, if you so wish, even by the bottle. I ordered a quarter of the very officious ‘Officer’s Choice’ and drowned it in no time and got another to go.

Now friends, the lesson to be learnt here is that, while you are having a good time drinking the local brew now, your estimation of ‘how much alcohol till hangover’ is based on the smoother brands you drink in the city. While you can happily down 180 ml of Teacher’s or JD and wake up the next morning fresh as a flower, the same amount of say…ummm… Officer’s Choice will turn your next morning into a veritable nightmare. Ask me!

When in Rome, friends...

So this brings us to the close of the second and the longest day of this ride. The plan for tomorrow is to wake up early, make a dash for Narkanda, visit the Hatu Peak and then drive off to Chail where we spend the night. But will we be able to do all that, or will we tumble down the mountain into a bottomless gorge and be killed to death?

More on that later!

I would be riding my 2009 Royal Enfield Machismo 500 LB, while Sumanta will be on his  2011 Royal Enfield Bullet Standard UCE.

The plan for the first day was to leave Delhi as early as possible, preferably around 3:30 AM and reach the hills before the May sun flattens us down. The stuff was packed overnight  and we managed to head out of home at 3:45 AM. We took the Ring Road to ISBT, Kashmere Gate, and from there went on to follow the National Highway 1 after the interchange at Mukarba Chowk.  The first break was at Murthal, 60 kms from Delhi and it was still dark out. By the time we finished our respective tumblers of tea and the hot parantha with a generous serving of white country butter, the sky was getting lighter. We had to drive to Shahbad, 17 kms before Ambala, and then turn right towards Yamunanagar/Jagadhri and follow the road straight to Chakrata via Paonta Sahib, Herbertpur, Dakpatthar and Kalsi.

First pit-stop on the way

The roommate and fellow rider on this trip

After the turn from Shahbad, the road was narrow, but good. A few clicks later, however, the roads deteriorated. This stretch up to Jagadhri has been a pothole-filled affair for quite some time now and in a bid to improve the road, all the Public Works Department has done is empty truckloads of gravel, sand and mud on where the road was supposed to be. We did lose some time here. The roads improved after we passed Jagadhri town and very soon, we entered the beautiful Kalesar National Park.

Covering an area of around 50 sq kms, Kalesar sprawls on both sides of the Yamunanagar-Paonta Sahib Road. Although it is primarily famous as a habitat for endemic as well as migratory birds, there are rumors floating around that the forest might also be home to a couple of Bengal tigers.

Riding through Kalesar

and here comes yours truly! Pic by Sumantra Ray

Colours of Kalesar

They say, the hotter the summers the brighter the colours. Pic by Sumantra Ray

After crossing Kalesar, we descended on the wide valley of the Yamuna with the town of Paonta Sahib on one side.  This tiny town, which derives its name from a historic gurudwara is fast developing as an industrial hub. The Yamuna has been bound here by the Hathnipol Barrage which  provides irrigational water to the farmers of Haryana, Himachal Pradesh and Uttarakhand. So the landscape around Paonta Sahib is cris-crossed by a network of canals.  We followed one such canal to Herbertpur and then on to Dakpatthar before reaching Kalsi, from where the climb to Chakrata starts.

Somewhere between Herbertpur and Dakpatthar

Kalsi (pronounced: Kaal-see) might be a small hamlet and a stop-over for people travelling on to Chakrata, but it’s historical significance knows no bounds. It was here that one of the rock edicts of the Mauryan emperor Asoka (274-232 BC) was found in the last years of the nineteenth century. Its importance can be judged by the fact that before the discovery of the Indus Valley Civilisation in the 1920′s, the Mauryan Period was considered the starting point of Indian history. It is not clear whether the edict is in situ, or has been moved from its original location. Today it lies at the end of a lane branching off from the main road at Kalsi, on the banks of the Yamuna. The erstwhile government of the British United Provinces built a domed structure, architecturally akin to the pre-Mughal tombs over the rock in 1912.

The rock edict shelter at Kalsi

The rock bearing the edict. The inscription is not visible, thanks to the bad light

Look ma, its a frog in a puddle!

The hills that we have been driving towards for almost six-seven hours now starts immediately after Kalsi. Ideally, one should come here immediately after the monsoons, when it is at its greenest. But summers too have their own colours, mostly a shade of sun scorched green, interspersed with a hundred shades of brown, the grey of the dust and the black of the tarmac.

Finally, the roads we love to drive on!

Oh! them twisties!

Returning from school was never more fun!

I usually get a lot of heat for this, but i never drive in the hills with my helmet on. I am a careful driver and on top of that i drive a bike that is not exactly built for break-neck speed. In the city, i always wear the helmet, even when i am out grocery shopping. In the hills, however, its different. I want to bask in the mellow sun and feel the cool wind on my face. I also want to hear the sounds of the mountains, all of which are sadly obstructed by the helmet. Hence it must go. Oh! and if you were to take a tumble from any of these roads, or any rocks were to tumble on you from the mountains above, i dont think any helmet in the world will save ya!

I could be doing this all day long!

Photo break on the way

My chrome baby!

As we climbed higher, the colours started returning to this hills. The air was more pleasant and the traffic was thin. Every now and then an overloaded Mahindra trekker zoomed past or a biker or two could be seen descending. Other than that it was just us and the empty roads. Sumantra, for whom it was the first ride was taking it a bit easy and understandably so. For me it was like a return to heaven. I was leaning on the curves and thumping down the straighter stretches like there was no tomorrow. The funniest thing of the day happened when i had gone a bit too far ahead and was waiting for Sumantra to catch up. I could see him riding up the opposite hill a couple of clicks behind me. He spots me and waves and in the process almost takes a fall! Lesson learnt, he positively ignores me for the rest of the ride!

Lonely road to Chakrata

Mountainside

Fun roads

It was scary at times too!

Somewhere atop a ridge..

Around 20 kms from Kalsi and halfway up the road to Chakrata, we took a break at the village of Sahiya, which is located at an altitude of 900 – 1000 m. It was still warm here, but upon enquiry, we found out that Chakrata, which is more than double the height of Sahiya was pleasantly cool, even during the day. So we scrambled off pronto!

The camera too takes a break!

The roads after Sahiya were even more beautiful and the traffic, almost non existent. On one side was the mountain, clad either by the tall pines or the fragrant ochre grass. On the other side was the valley, with beautifully terraced fields, planted almost exclusively with rice. I stopped almost after every two kilometres  and killed the engine so that i could listen to the silence of the mountains. There was no sound except the occassional singing bird. This is why we leave town and this is why i will continue to head to the hills every month. I dont care if i dont save and i dont give a damn if i dont get paid leaves, i shall live for a few days every month like i wanted to forever – on the road and in the hills!

Green valleys

The road we left behind

and the roads yet to be discovered

Make hay while the sun shines!

Change of colour with every turn of the road

A busy day on the hill roads!

Very soon we were within five kms from Chakrata. The town is known primarily due to its cantonment which was raised in 1866 by the then British Indian Army. The cantonment is now home to the Special Frontier Force, a special forces unit composed fully of ethnic Tibetans. This force was raised after the debacle at the hands of the Chinese in 1962. Due to the very secretive nature of this regiment, access to Chakrata is restricted only to Indians. We were stopped on the road by two soldiers who checked our vehicles and papers. While they were doing their job, we got talking and friendly as they are, we soon got chit-chatting about the place and the mountains in general. They gave us lots of inputs about which routes to take and the nature of the roads in general.

While we were busy talking to the jawans, i realised that the light had turned magical. So i excused myself from our new friends and proceeded to click a few decent ones.

Valley view

The invading shadows

Caught in the act

Valley View - ii

Not knowing what lies beyond the turn will set you free!

Prayer in the air

We had called up a hotel beforehand from Delhi itself, but when we asked our friends in the army about it, they said that it was on the Chakrata-Mussoorie Road, completely opposite to the direction we were headed. They instead advised us to stay in the town itself and we did so.

Barracks atop a hill

First sight of Chakrata

Beautiful colonial buildings

We checked into a hotel (one of the two) in the middle of the Chakratta bazaar. The bazaar itself was like 20 shops along one narrow road. The room we had for Rs 450 had a view but unfortunately, no water. Much haggling ensued and we were finally delivered a couple of bucketfulls … still the taps ran dry. Tired from the travel (we had driven more than 400 kms with hardly any sleep the previous night), Sumantra slept off while i put on a light jacket, picked up the camera and went off for a walk. When i came back, i found that the door was unlocked and Sumantra in the same position that i left him over two hours back. He did wake up shortly, only to claim that he had been rendered unconscious by fatigues. I would hear many such incredulous statements in the next few days!

The market was located on top of a ridge that ran from north to south and there was a marked difference in the sights on both sides. Towards the east, a dark cloud was descending on the surrounding mountains, while on the west, a scarlet sun was going down for the day behind layers of mountains. Absolute drama, no matter which direction you look!

The stormclouds gather

In perfect contrast

of blossoms and the impending storms...

Does this qualify as a silver(ish) lining?

Drama over Chakrata

More drama!

After the roomie had ‘regained’ his senses, we went out and feasted on some hot rotis and delicious mutton curry. It was cold outside and we were well fed, so could sleep be far behind? As i dived into a thick layer of blankets, i did spare a thought to my poor friends sweltering in the 45 degree heat of Delhi and it did give me some satisfaction.

The ride continues again the next day with promises of wilder roads and more less-known destination. Until i see you guys again in a couple of days, i leave you with this parting shot:

Till we meet again...

At the end of the last post we had explored the beautiful town of Coochbehar and were headed towards Damdim Tea Estate via Maynaguri, Gorumara National Park, Chalsa and Udlabari.

Route Map

This journey, which was little over 150 kms, took us through some of the most beautiful parts of the Dooars. The plains around Coochbehar were planted with paddy and the crop was still green, a month away from ripening. The road resembled a black ribbon in an endless sea of green.

On our way out of Coochbehar

Abstraction

Coochbehar district is surrounded on two sides by Bangladesh. An interesting thing here is that there are certain villages / territories called enclaves belonging to one country, but located in the other. There are 92 Bangladeshi enclaves in Coochbehar District while India has 106 enclaves in three border districts of Bangladesh. While we did not visit any of these enclaves, the road we were on skirted the bleak barbed wire fence that was the border between India and Bangladesh. It is very common for people living in Bangladesh to just cross over and attend haats or weekly markets on the Indian side and vice versa. There were a few villages on the other side. They were so close that the fence was basically where their courtyard ended.

I have this long standing desire to go to Bangladesh, visit my ancestral village in Moymensingh district. I have heard that our house in the village still stands and at present six families live in it! Coming here, i did actually see Bangladesh, where the roots of my family lie.

So near.. yet so far

A very jolly border patrol

Skeletal

Very soon we left the border behind and headed to Moynaguri, where we had some refreshments. Our next destination was the famous Jalpesh Temple, easily the most important religious destination in North Bengal. Dedicated to Shiva, this temple was built in 1524 by one of the Coochbehar kings and renovated several time in the following centuries. The most striking aspect of the temple is its architecture. Like most of the buildings constructed by the Coochbehar kings, it shows a pronounced Islamic influence. This is seen particularly in the bulbous dome over the main garbhagriha. 

The temple is surrounded by a bustling market, which is one of the most important jute trading centers of the region. Here farmers bring their jute and sell them off to merchants who then, in turn, source them off to factories in south Bengal. On the day of Shivaratri though, the jute market is shut and it is replaced by a vibrant rural mela.

Jalpesh Temple

On the way to the jute market

Abstraction - bicycle tire rims on sale at a shop in the jute market

Going to the market - these cylindrical bamboo structures are meant to prevent cows and goats from eating saplings!

After leaving Jalpesh Temple behind, the next town on our route was Lataguri, the gateway to Gorumara National Park. Spread across around 80 sq kms, it has a sizable population of the Indian one horned rhinoceros, apart from elephants, leopards and a few royal Bengal tigers. For the next 15 kms, the road passes through the dense forest and it is advisable to drive slow as animals frequently cross the road. Around five kilometers down the road, on the left is a small clearing where a number of linga shaped stones are placed at the base of a tree. Locals believe that it is a particularly sacred spot and that even elephants come to worship here. We stopped here, not only to see the shrine, but also to soak in the relative silence of the surrounding forest.

Here we met a couple of villagers who were scouring the nearby stream for tiny snails, which are used to make a local adivasi delicacy. They even offered to make us some tea in the makeshift oven they had created by placing an earthen pot  over some stones, between which was lit a fire. We however politely declined the offer.

The shrine in the forest

Chai garam!

The road through the forest

The road again

The snail hunters walking off with their catch - One of my favourite captures

After this break, we drove continuously through Chalsa and Udlabari before taking the turn towards Damdim Tea Estate, our stop for the night. We would be staying at the 150 year old heritage bungalow here. During the colonial period, it used to be the residence of the burra sahib, the manager of the estate. Now the burra sahibs are gone but efforts are underway to restore the bungalows to their past glory and give the well-heeled traveller a taste of the planter’s lifestyle.

Entrance to Damdim

The bungalow - living room

The bungalow - dining room

The bungalow - our bedroom

To be fair, we had not expected the establishment to be as plush as it was. Following tradition, the bungalow had a khansama, a cook, who specialised in colonial dishes like grilled fish, baked beans and sausage breakfast, bread and butter pudding and the likes. And of course there was the tea. Having grown up in the area and coming from a family of avid tea drinkers, i am usually quick to spot the differences in the tea of the hills and the Dooars. Initially we were given what was clearly a Makaibari organic, one of the best tea from the Darjeeling hills, but i asked the khansama to brew me some of the estate’s best. What came was the characteristically full bodied and aromatic Dooars. The colour and the bouquet more pronounced than its cousin from the hills. I’d day this that if you are up on a rainy morning and want something to go with the mellow mood, try Darjeeling. However, if the morning has caught you unawares and you need something to help you get into the routine, Dooars is your best bet. It is, in a very perverse way, the coffee of teas.

Anyway, after the tea and snacks, I decided to go for a walk in the surrounding estate while the boss decided to go in for a nap. Outside it was a riot of colours. The many hues of the autumn bloom stood out perfectly against the background of rain washed green of the tea plants.

A quaint bridge over a tiny stream

The Dooars i Know

The tea fields

Autumn colours

Autumn colours

Autumn colours

Autumn colours

Autumn colours

Autumn colours

Autumn colours

Autumn colours

When i came back to the bungalow, Swati was fresh and ready and we set off to visit another vestige of the colonial era – the Western Dooars Club. Once the hub of the planter’s social life, this once great institution features a teak dance floor, a billiards room, a lavish kitchen, a bar and of course sprawled alongside it, an 18-hole golf club. The burra sahibs and the mem sahibs have left and along with them has gone the glitz and glamour of the lavish balls and the stylish do’s. The inside is dark and dreary and the curtains over the French windows are heavy with dust and spiders. The seemingly endless golf course is deserted and overgrown and watched over by the faint outline of the mountains, visible through the mist like a distant memory.

Western Dooars Club from the outside

The golf course from once upon a time!

By the time we had returned from the club, it had gotten dark. The next day, we would drive back to Siliguri and end the memorable journey we had begun from there a few days earlier. As the crickets sang us to our sleep, i realised it was probably the same sound i had heard as a nine year old kid. Until the next morning comes and  forces us into a flurry of packing and information gathering and shooting and travelling, it was my time. My own time in my very own land.

Until tomorrow, then…

Morning glory

..and the drops of morning dew

Since we had wrapped up with the foresty bit the day before, we decided to go down to Coochbehar or Kochbehar, the largest town in Dooars after Siliguri. This meant driving more than a 100 kms through the idyllic countryside. The first town in our route was Alipurduar. The town is named after Col Hedayat Ali Khan, an officer in the British Army during the Bhutan wars of 1864.

Alipurduar was an important trading post on the famed ‘Silk Route’. It was here that two ancient trading routes, the first from Mathura and Pataliputra (modern Patna) and the second from the sea-port of Tamralipti (modern Tamluk) merged. From here, the road went on to Xi’an in China after passing through Bhutan and Tibet. Remains of the ancient road can still be seen in the nearby village of Santalabari. Since there was nothing extant from the time Alipurduar was a prosperous settlement, we decided to pass by it.

The road from Alipurduar to Kamakhyaguri

Another river crossed

Fishing contraption cum sentry post

A bamboo bridge over a river

Playing the goat

Covering an area of around 2500 hectares on the Alipurduar-Kamakhyaguri road is Rasikbil, a large lake that is famous for its large population of migratory birds. A deer park and a crocodile rehabilitation centre are located close by. Also around it are a leopard house, a python house, an aviary and a tortoise rescue and rehabilitation centre. The entire lake was covered with a thick growth of water hyacinth and could not see why any migratory birds would alight here if it was not cleared. It was although a very pretty sight specially how the little suspension bridge built above the lake seemed to span a sea of green.

The 'lake' at Rasikbill

The tiny bridge over the 'lake' at Rasikbill

Rescued but not rehabilitated

I thought this was just another pond.... and then i looked closely!

After some time at Rasikbill, we decided to drive on to Coochbehar which was only 25 kms from here.

Seeped in history and culture, the town of Coochbehar is a veritable treasure trove for the historically inclined traveller. Coochbehar, is the only ‘planned’ city in north Bengal. This erstwhile princely state was part of the Kamarupa empire during 4^th-13^th centuries AD. With the weakening of the Kamarupa state in the early 13^th century, a significant portion of their territory came to be controlled by the Khen dynasty which ruled from its capital at Kamtapur. The Kamta dynasty held sway over the region till 1498 AD when they were defeated by Alauddin Hussein Shah, the Sultan of Gaur.

Coochbehar GPO

Established in 1861, the Jenkins School is one of the best schools in town

A bungalow in Coochbehar

Though successful in subduing the Kamtas, Hussein Shah was plagued by constant attacks from the local Bhuyan chieftains as well as from the kings of Ahom (Assam).  During this period of political confusion, the Koch tribe became increasingly powerful and took control over Kamta, proclaiming themselves Kamteshwar (Lord of Kamta).

Thus established, the Koch kingdom reached its zenith under Nara Narayan (1540-1586). After his death, the kingdom was divided into two parts. The eastern part under his son, Raghudev came to be known as Koch Hajo, while the remainder under Nara Narayan’s nephew, Lakshmi Narayan, came to be called the kingdom of Coochbehar. The last ruler of Coochbehar, Jagaddipendra Narayan, transferred power to the Government of India on 12 September 1949. The Coochbehar state became a district of West Bengal on 19 January 1950 with Coochbehar town as its headquarters.

The beautiful Sagar dighi (lake) is located right at the centre of the town. It is surrounded on all sides by heritage buildings, some of which have been converted into government offices.

Sagar Dighi

Quidditch, anyone?

Located at the heart of the city is the famous Madan Mohan Temple,  built by Maharaja Nripendra Narayan, and dedicated to the kula-devata (tutelary deity) of the royal family. The temple complex also hosts a Raas Mela every November.

Madan Mohan Temple

The state of Coochbehar embraced modernisation quite early. Maharaja Nripendra Narayan (r.1863-1911) broke convention by marrying the daughter of the prominent Brahmo Samaj leader, Keshub Chandra Sen. He is also credited with building Coochbehar’s lasting landmark, the Victor Jubilee Palace, also known as the Rajbari or simply the Coochbehar Palace in 1887.

Built on a 1.5 metre-high platform, this double-storeyed brick building covers an area of 4,768 square metres. Modelled on the St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, the Durbar Hall is dodecagonal in shape, resting on four arches supported by massive Corinthian pilasters with a lantern projected at the top. In the centre of the Durbar Hall, the marble floor has the insignia of the royal family engraved in pietra dura. There are over fifty rooms/halls of varied dimensions in the palace that include a billiard room, dancing hall, library, toshakhana and the ladies gallery.

The coat-of-arms of the royal Family of Coochbehar on the gates of the Palace

The Palace as viewed from the front

View of the palace from the back where the light was better

Details of the beautiful mouldings

The stunning ceiling of the main durbar hall

The durbar hall

Maharaja Nripendra Narayan, the builder of modern Coochbehar

After visiting all the sites in Coochbehar we started asking around if there were any other places worth going to around the town and it was then we heard about the Baneshwar Shivalaya. Baneshwar Shiva Temple is located about 10 kms north of Coochbehar town. Next to the main temple here is another temple which has the image of Ardhanariswar. This 400 year old temple had recently been whitewashed and made for a pretty sight afainst the backdrop of the blue sky. A big pond in the temple compound is home to a large number of tortoises, some of which are very old.

Light drizzle on the way to Baneshwar

Baneshwar Shivalaya

Ancient devotee in an ancient temple

Age!

One of the Turtles at Baneshwar

By the time i reached Coochbehar, dusk was setting in.  Luckily for me, it was one of the typically brilliant and colourful Dooars evenings. When i was passing through th main market of Coochbehar, i happened to notice the soaring dome of the palace set against the painted sky. Unfortunately for me, the palace gates had closed and there was no way i could get in. So i walked around the palace walls and found a spot where i could stick the lens of the camera between the iron grille and clicked a couple of shots.

Golden Dusk

Perfection!

In the next post, we sample the simple charms of a tea-growing Dooars. Also in my thought, its going to be the most colourful of the Dooars series. So watch this space for more, or just SUBSCRIBE!

The safaris leave in groups of 2-3 elephants, each carrying a maximum of four people and a mahaut. One should try and get a place in the first group which usually leaves at 5 am during summers and 6 am during winters. For its size, the elephant is an extremely agile animal and manoeuvres easily through the various streams running through the forest.

Around 5 AM, a car came to pick us up from the lodge. It must be told here that the safari begins from the Hollong Tourist Lodge, which is seven kms from the gate of the forest and around 9 kms from where we were staying. Apart from us, the only people we saw were the mahouts and a British couple.

Our Ride!

Elephants have a distinct advantage over the jeep safaris popular elsewhere because it lets the visitor get much closer to the wild animal without it being put off by the noise of the engine. The elephants used for the safaris are employees of the state government and draw monthly salaries, have a retirement age, and upon retirement are eligible for a pension! Apart from safaris, the elephants, also known as kunki are used to round up wild elephants that have gone musth (a periodic condition in bull elephants, characterised by highly aggressive behaviour, accompanied by a large rise in reproductive hormones) and help in patrolling for poachers.

in the early morning light...

For its size, the elephant is an extremely agile animal and manoeuvres easily through the various streams running through the forest. At the start of the safari, we veered off the tracks used by the jeeps and entered the dense forests. As i had said in the earlier post, the forests had just opened after the monsoons and the foliage was at its thickest. Though chances of sighting wildlife in such thick vegetation are very slim (all we saw were a couple of monkeys and a yelping wild boar), the feeling of being deep inside these luxuriant forests, surrounded by a quietitude so thick that a mere snap of a twig makes you jump on your high seat is priceless. So thick is the foliage that at times, the sunlight does not reach the forest floor.

All terrain vehicle!

One of the many streams in the forest

The dense forests soon make way for the grasslands. The grass here is so tall that they are popularly called elephant grass. This is where most of the rhinos can be spotted – feeding, resting or wallowing in the muddy pools. We saw signs of their presence – hoof-marks, flattened patches of grass, etc but failed to spot the actual rhino.

Rhino land in elephant grass

Having said that, i must also point out that we did spot a monitor lizard, carefully camouflaged against the tree bark.

Monitor lizard

Anyway, since we had gotten up so early and trampled around in the forest for hours, the hunger demons were on a rampage on my stomach. The entire day lay ahead of us and whatever had to be done, needed to be done quickly. So anyway, i gulp down half a litre of milk, a couple of eggs, snatch some sandwiches from the breakfast table and rush to the car to head off to Chilapata forest.

On the way to Chilapata

On the way to Chilapata

Torsha river flows through the southeastern part of Jaldapara and separates a stretch of dense forests from the main wildlife sanctuary. Chilapata, as this forest is better known acts as an elephant corridor between Jaldapara Wildlife Sanctuary and Buxa Tiger Reserve. Chilapata has some of the densest forests of the region. In a struggle to reach for the light, creepers crawl up trunks of small trees while shrubs and smaller plants sprout out from every possible free space on the ground. So dense are the forests here that driving through them feels like going through a green tunnel.

The green tunnel

Originally, Chilapata forests were home to a large number of rhinoceros, but they have since vanished due to excessive poaching, especially by the erstwhile ruling family of Coochbehar. However, during the winter months, when the Torsha is reduced to a lean, fast flowing stream, the occasional rhinoceros is known to cross over from Jaldapara to Chilapata.

This time, we did spot some wildlife, and whats more... wildlife posed for photos too

No country for taking a break

Deep inside the forest are remains of an ancient fort which historians say could date back to the Gupta period (4th – 7th century AD). Locally known as Nal Rajar Garh (the fortress of the Nal king), the ruins are around three kms into the forest off the NH31A. While you are expecting soaring buttresses and sprawling complexes, do not get your hopes up. The heavy rainfall and the high humidity of the region, not to mention the 1500 years in between has really takes its toll. All that remains are some walls and a couple of neat looking arches. Anyway, it was here that we saw a baby elephant. While it was indeed a cute sight, i couldn’t but help think about the mother which would have been lurking nearby.

Infant elephant

Further down the national highway, as the road leads towards Hashimara, a smaller track leads off on the right towards the Chilapata forest outpost. Located on a high spur of land on the banks of the Torsha, the building provides a stunning view of the forests on one side and the Torsha river bed on the other. During autumn, the bed of the Torsha river erupts with a profusion of kaash, white, fluffy, plume-like blossoms of tall grass.

The sea of Kaash

More kaash!

A closer view

So far in the day, we had completed an elephant safari and then driven into the heart of the forest for some wonderful sights. It would have been the day for the tourists, but one glance at the watch confirmed that it was not even lunchtime. We anyway had to get to this place called Rajabhatkhawa (literally, ‘where the king ate rice’), the ehtry-point to Buxa Tiger Reserve. Our driver suggested a shortcut through a village called Kodalbasti (literally, ‘a village of spades’). It turned out to be a narrow winding track through small hamlets, but in the middle the road had vanished! It was gobbled up by the Baniya River flowing alongside. So about turn and a longer drive to reach Rajabhatkhawa.

Road ends, but the journey doesn't

We reached Rajabhatkhawa by 2 in the afternoon and checked into the rest house operated by West Bengal Forestry. A quich shower and a change of clothes later we were off to explore the many mysteries of Buxa. Also in Rajabhatkhawa is a Nature Interpretation Centre, that helps the tourist grasp the delicate biodiversity of Dooars. It was here, via a mural on the wall and a very talkative guard that i found out how Rajabhatkhawa got its strange name. Long ago, the King of Coochbehar was in constant warfare with the king of Bhutan. The wars were severe and bloody and neither king emerged a clear victor. To put an end to the bitterness, the king of Coochbehar invited his Bhutanese counterpart for lunch to work out a settlement. As it turns out, the luncheon bore fruits and the two kingdoms never warred again.

The mural

Buxa Tiger Reserve, established in 1983 is sprawled over an area of 759 sq kms, of which 314.5 sq kms is the core area. However, the dense forests and the general shy nature of tigers make sightings here a rare delight. The northern boundary of the Park roughly coincides with India’s border with Bhutan. National Highway 31C runs along its southern boundary. A part of a contiguous forests that extend across North Bengal, Assam and Bhutan, it serves as an international corridor for elephant migration between India and Bhutan. According to the state wildlife officials, even tigers are known to move freely in to Bhutan through the continuous belt of forests.

The beautiful forests of back home!

We wanted to explore the more frequented Jainti beat of the forest. We paid for our permits at the forest check post at Buxa and headed in.

@ Rajabhatkhawa forest check post

There are no permanent roads inside the forest. Like all forests in Dooars, the park is nurtured by a large number of rivers, most important of which are Jainti and Raidak. Jainti carves a wide basin across the Tiger Reserve. Most of the rivers change courses frequently and hence you have to cross a riverbed or two to get to your destination. At one such river crossing, i decided to get off the car and wade my way through. I was having a nice walk with the car ambling along behind me when all of a sudden i was startled by a loud honking. Turning back i was quite surprised to see an AUTO, full of people making its way through at breakneck speed. I quickly stepped aside to avert a collision and realised that even after a nuclear holocaust, the autos will survive, probably to be driven around by then roaches!

A peaceful walk.....

... turns into a near hit-and-run

The tata guys should pay me for this!

Anyway, re reached our destination without any more incidents. The wide bed of the river Jainti as it snakes through the forest is one of  the most beautiful places you will ever see. Standing by the river, to the north one sees rolling hills, covered with dense forests. To the south, as far as the eyes can see, is the milky-white riverbed of smooth pebbles fringed by dark-green forests, known for their rare orchids and medicinal plants.

Jainti

As a kid, every winters, our family, along with some friends would come here for picnics on sunny, winter days. The last time i came here, i was prolly 11-12 years old, but i could remember flashes of fun i had here. For once, i remembered that if you dug into the sand on the riverbed, you could get water.Then there was the hapless look on the face of our cook. All the housewives and my mother had nothing to do on the picnics, but get after the life of the cook and interrogate him for every additional ounce of ginger paste put in the mutton curry simmering on the wooden flame. Then there was my father, who is, without doubt the worst player of any card game in the world. So he would usually stand and watch others play and indulge me with stories of fantastic creatures that would come out of the forest once we left for the day.

Driftwood wishbone!

We stood on the river for some times. shooting, talking but mostly enjoying the sight. As the darkness started to descend, we made our way to the forest lodge. The next day we would head to the beautiful town of Coochbehar where there would be more stories to tell and more roads to travel. Until then its time to say goodbye with these two pics:

Speeding through the forests

One last breath taken away!